She turned again and all but ran down the staircase. He called something after her, in a distressed voice. She ignored it, and ran on.

So now they didn’t talk about much of anything anymore. And Talia missed that; missed the closeness they used to have, the way they used to be able to confide their deepest secrets to each other. Truth to be told, she missed that more than the physical side of their relationship—though now that she was no longer used to being celibate she missed that, too. . . .

Then there was her relationship—or more accurately, lack of one—with Dirk.

His behavior was baffling in the extreme; one moment he would seem determined to get her alone somewhere, the next, he shied away from even being in the same room. He would be lurking in the background everywhere she went for a day or two, then just as abruptly would vanish, only to reappear in a few days. Half the time he seemed determined to throw Kris at her, the other half, equally determined to block Kris from getting anywhere near her—

Talia saw her elusive quarry leaning on the fence surrounding Companion’s Field. He was staring, broodingly, off into the far distance. For a wonder, it wasn’t raining, although the sky was a dead, dull gray and threatening to pour any moment.

“Dirk?”

He jumped, whipped about, and stared at her with wide, startled eyes.

“W-what are you doing here?” he asked, somewhat ungraciously, his back pressed hard against the fence as if that barrier was all that was keeping him from running away.

“The same as you, probably,” Talia replied, forcing herself not to snap at him. “Looking for my Companion, and maybe somebody to ride with.”

“In that case, shouldn’t you be looking for Kris?” he asked, his expression twisted as if he’d swallowed something very unpleasant.

She couldn’t think of a reply, and chose not to answer him. Instead she moved to the fence herself, and stood with one booted foot on the first railing and her arms folded along the top, mimicking the pose he had held when she saw him.

“Talia—” He took one step toward her—she heard his boot squelch in the wet grass—then stopped. “I—Kris is—a very valuable friend. More than friend. I—”

She waited for him to say what was on his mind, hoping that this time he’d finish it. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, he’d be able to speak his piece.

“Yes?” she prompted when the silence went on so long she’d almost suspected him of sneaking away. She turned to catch his blue, blue eyes staring almost helplessly at her before he hastily averted them.

“I—I’ve got to go—” he gasped, and fled.